


Letters to You

by littleboycalico



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboycalico/pseuds/littleboycalico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach get paired up as pen pals in the third grade, but unlike most pen pals, they actually stay in touch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Assume they're the same age and were both born in the late 70’s.

“Chris P.”

Chris pushes his chair back and stands up, adjusting his new glasses before walking up to Mrs. Miller’s desk. His third grade teacher smiles as she hands him an envelope that has his name, written in cursive with pencil, across the front.

Once he returns to his seat, he eagerly tears at the envelope. His small hand pulls the neatly folded wide-ruled loose-leaf sheet out and unfolds it. Chris flattens the letter on his desk and, despite his barely contained excitement, reads it slowly, savoring it like he does when unwrapping Christmas and birthday presents.

 _  
Dear Chris,_

 _How are you? We have five more weeks of school before summer starts. My birthday is in two weeks. I really want the deluxe Megatron for my birthday. I hope my mom can get it for me. When is your birthday?...  
_

  


Faintly, he hears Mrs. Miller repeating their homework assignment and Chris glances up for a quick second before hunching over and trying to block out everything else in the room as he continues reading the letter. There’s bustling and movement around him as everyone retrieves their backpacks from the coat closet in the back of the classroom and begins packing up their books and folders for the day.

 _  
... Mrs. Valley says that this is the last letter we will send because we don’t do pen pals in fourth grade next year. It makes me sad that we won’t be pen pals anymore. I wish we could stay pen pals. You seem cool and I like reading your letters. You have nice handwriting too. We’re learning how to write in pen. I like it. I write with my left hand and pencil smudges when I move my hand over the page. Pen doesn’t smudge....  
_

  


“Chris,” Mrs. Miller says softly.

He looks up with sad eyes. Maybe if he’d been paying more attention to the things Mrs. Miller said during class, he would’ve realized that this was the last he’d hear from his pen pal. His teacher places a gentle hand over one of his and bends lower to speak quietly to him.

“You really enjoy these letters, don’t you?”

Chris nods in response, giving his glasses another nudge up his tiny nose as his eyes wander back to the words on the page.

“Well, your pen pal does, too, and he told his teacher, Mrs. Valley, that he was very upset when he learned this was the last letter he would be sending. He asked if he could continue writing to you over the summer. What do you think about that?”

“I like that idea,” Chris says in a small voice and gives Mrs. Miller a huge grin.

His teacher laughs lightly in response. “I’m glad to hear that.” From behind her back, he gives him a small, yellow envelope. “This is a note for your mom from your pen pal’s mom. It’s just to say hello and it has their home address so you can send letters to each other instead of through Mrs. Valley and me. Can you make sure you mom reads it?”

Chris takes the envelope from her. “No problem Mrs. M.”

Giving his shoulder a squeeze, she nods approvingly and straightens up. “I’m very happy you were able to make a friend, Chris,” she adds before walking to the front of the classroom to see everyone out.

Chris folds up the letter from his pen pal and places it and the note for his mom in his Transformers Trapper Keeper. Gathering up the books he needs, he packs his backpack and leaves the classroom with a bounce in his step.

As soon as Chris arrives home, he tosses his backpack onto to the kitchen table and unzips it. He pulls out his binder and hands the yellow envelope to his mom as she readies an afternoon snack for him. Sitting at the table, he unfolds the letter from his pen pal again and rereads it, his index finger following along each word.

His mother sits down next to him and ruffles his hair, asking about his day while she opens the envelope. She holds the sheet of yellow and pink stationary in her hand, reading it with a small frown.

“Mom! Mom, Mom, Mom!” Chris grabs her wrist and shakes it to get her attention. “So I can write him another letter, right? Mrs. Miller said I could.”

There’s a buzz from the laundry room and she glances over her shoulder.

“If that makes you happy, then of course. I’ll help you address it and send it when you’re ready.” She leaves the note on the kitchen table as she stands to check on the clothes in the dryer.

Chris bites his lip. He knows he shouldn’t read it, but his curiosity gets the best of him.

 _  
... after his father passed away a year ago. He’s always been outgoing and has many friends, but lately it’s rare that I see him truly happy. There’s nothing like the joy on his face when he comes home with a letter from Chris. Surely, you must understand why I hope our boys can keep writing to one another, at least for a little while longer...  
_

  


The sounds of his mother’s returning footsteps startle him, and Chris quickly drops the note and busies himself, pulling out a sheet of paper from his Trapper Keeper and rummaging through his backpack for his favorite blue pen. He tries to ignore what he’s just read and taps his nose with his pen twice while he thinks of what to write.

 _  
Dear Zach,_

 _Guess what? I graduated to using pen! I think you’re cool too and now that I have your address we can keep writing over the summer. My birthday is in August. I wish my birthday was during the normal year. I’m never in school for my birthday and I don’t get to bring in cookies and my class doesn’t sing happy birthday to me....  
_

 

***

 

The front door slams shut as Katie stomps back inside with the mail, sorting through everything in a huff until she sees something that makes her eyes go wide.

“Yes!” Katie jumps in place and tears open the large envelope. With an excited shriek, she drops the rest of the mail as she runs to the kitchen to gush to their mom about the college acceptance she just received.

Chris looks over his shoulder from where he’s sprawled on his stomach in front of the TV, his Nintendo controller in his hands, and eyes the scattered pieces of mail on the living room floor. He pulls himself to his feet and picks everything up, brightening when he finds a letter addressed to him in Zach’s handwriting, which has become as familiar as his own over the last two and a half years.

His videogame is forgotten as he slips his finger under the flap of the envelope, his tongue trapped between his lips in concentration as he unfolds the two pages Zach’s sent him. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, he begins to read.

 _  
Hi Chris,_

 _How’s it going? Spring is here and I’m seeing green buds on the trees. I’m so excited for the weather to be warmer. It must be nice to live somewhere that doesn’t get really cold. Do you even own a winter coat? Haha! I think I’d like to visit L.A. and the west coast someday._

 _Joe is leaving in the fall for college too. He’s going to a school nearby so he can visit us on the weekends. My mom and I don’t like the idea of him being far away. Does Katie know where she’s going yet?_

 _I almost forgot! I have really cool news! I got that part in that play I was telling you about! It’s a small part and I don’t have many lines but I’m still excited....  
_

  


Chris smiles at Zach’s enthusiasm and runs up to his bedroom after he reads the letter twice. He sits at his desk and sets up his pen and paper.

 _  
Hey Zach,_

 _You should come visit! I’ll show you around. We can go to Disney World and Universal Studios! People say the ones in Orlando are better but I still love to go on all the rides. It’ll be so much fun. You don’t get pukey on rides, do you? We’ll go the beach, too, and maybe see some dolphins. I’ll show you a real palm tree. I bet you’ve never seen one of those around where you live._

 _Congratulations on getting that part! I wish I could come see your play. Maybe I could come visit you too someday. Maybe during the winter so it’ll snow and we can go sledding.  
_

  


For a moment, he tries to picture himself bundled up in winter gear. A puffy winter coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. Then he tries to picture what Zach would look like if Chris were to throw a snowball at him. And that’s when he realizes that he doesn’t know what Zach looks like. All he knows is that Zach has brown hair and brown eyes.

Chris pulls open his desk drawer and finds his most recent school photos. Carefully, he cuts out one of the small, rectangular photos with pair of blue plastic safety scissors.

 _  
Now you’ll know what I look like. I don’t have my glasses on in this picture so you’ll have to imagine them.  
_

  


By the time his mother calls him down for dinner, he’s copying Zach’s address from where he has it taped to the wall above his desk onto the front of the envelope. He folds the two sheets of lined paper and drops his school photo in before sealing it.

Two weeks later, Zach’s written back. When Chris tips the folded sheets out of the envelope and into his hand, something flutters to the floor. He picks it up and grins when he realizes that it’s a photo of Zach. Clamoring onto his desk, he tapes it to his wall, next to Zach’s address. He sits and stares at it for a while, smiling the whole time, happy to finally know the face of the boy living thousands of miles away in Pennsylvania.

 

***

 

Chris never had to wait more than a month to receive one of Zach’s letters. When Halloween passes, then Thanksgiving and the holidays, and Chris tells himself that Zach must be busy with his play and hasn’t had the time to write him. January comes and goes, and he gets a secret admirer Valentine in his locker, but it isn’t until early March that he finally hears back from Zach.

As much as it’s a relief, he also worries that Zach might be growing tired of him. It seems that maintaining a pen pal for so long, five years now, is something uncommon and he’s afraid that maybe all his friends are right about it eventually having to end. Some of them tease Chris, mocking his general aloofness toward school by telling him that he’d already passed the third grade; there was no need to continue doing this assignment.

But to Chris, Zach is more than a pen pal or some experiment to see how long they can keep this going. Zach is his friend. They had both acknowledged that in previous letters, and the idea of their friendship dwindling leaves an unsettling feeling in the pit of Chris’ stomach.

 _  
Hi Chris,_

 _I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to write back. Things got really busy with the play I was in. The rehearsals went on until super late and I didn’t finish my homework some nights. My mom got upset about that. But it was all worth it because it was so much fun. I really enjoy it. I love going to rehearsals and standing right off stage and waiting for my cue. I think I’d really like to do something like this when I’m grown up. Maybe I’ll be like your dad someday!_

 _How were your holidays? What did you get for Christmas? Fake snow? Just kidding._

 _I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this because I’m not supposed to talk about it. I don’t care, though, because my mom will never see this and it’s not like you’re going to spread rumors about me. You’re a good friend, Chris, and I think even if you lived here near me, you wouldn’t say anything mean about me. I got into some trouble in school three weeks ago. I punched a kid. He was calling me names. I don’t know what happened, but something snapped and it made me so angry. I didn’t get hurt too badly, but it was enough to make my mom want to send me to this private all-boys school for high school next year._

 _But that’s enough about me. Did you end up doing that essay contest? I hope you did. I think you’d win...  
_

  


Chris notices that his fist is clenched. He knows what it’s like to be picked on, pushed around, bullied for being small and wearing dorky glasses, but it’s never gotten to the point where Chris had to physically defend himself. He finds that he’s boiling with anger on Zach’s behalf. Zach seems so thoughtful. He’s funny and smart, and really artistic, just like his distinctive handwriting, which has morphed into a mix of cursive and sophisticated print. How could anyone be mean to Zach?

It bothers him for the rest of the afternoon until he comes up with an idea. Chris runs downstairs and into the basement where his mom keeps her collection of gift bags, wrapping paper, shipping supplies, and other odds and ends. The smallest box he finds is still too big so he grabs some newspaper from the recycling bin and heads back up to his room.

Later that night, after everything’s finished and he’s written his letter to Zach, he asks his mom if she could take him to the post office the next day.

“Shouldn’t you have checked with me before you put that package together?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “What are you sending Zach, anyway?”

Chris blushes, though he doesn’t really know why. “It’s just a gift,” he says in a small voice, “to make him feel better. He’s been going through a rough time.”

“It better not be dirty magazines.”

Chris covers his bright red face. “Oh my god, Mom. No, it’s... can we not, oh my god, I can’t, will you just drive me to the post office tomorrow? Please?” he whines.

“Alright. But next time, check with me beforehand.”

The following week, Chris is laying on his bed reading one afternoon when his mom knocks on his door.

“Something came for you, sweetie.” She places the package on his desk and gives him a smile before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Sitting up, Chris bolts off his bed and crosses the room in three huge strides. He grabs a pen and rips through the tape holding the flaps of the box together. There’s an envelope inside with his name on it. He can feel his heart banging behind his sternum in anticipation. Chris picks up the envelope and licks his lip. For a moment, he’s torn between wanting to read the letter and looking through the rest of the box. With a shake of his head, he quickly decides that he should see what Zach wrote first, and flips the envelope over in his hand to find that it’s not sealed.

 _  
Hi Chris,_

 _I’m not sure the words THANK YOU are enough to say what I wish to tell you. I was in such a horrible mood the day before I got your package but I haven’t been able to stop smiling since I opened it. I haven’t been able to stop listening to your mixtapes, either. I think I’m beginning to really like Tom Petty. It’s your fault! Next thing I’ll be taking up the guitar, too!_

 _I made three tapes for you. I’m not sure if you’ll like them all, but it’s what I’ve been listening to a lot lately. Besides Tom Petty, of course....  
_

  


After dinner, Chris finishes up his homework while listening to Zach’s tapes. He was right: Chris didn’t like all of it, but he did like that it made him feel as though he was somehow closer to Zach. Chris pops one of the tapes (the one with the least amount of showtunes) in his walkman, puts on his headphones, and settles into bed.

By some miracle, he’s still able to hear his alarm clock through his headphones in the morning. The tape’s run to the end of that side, so he flips it over and listens to two songs before he reluctantly gets up to brush his teeth. On his way to the bathroom, he hums the last song he listened to and pushes his glasses up his nose as he smiles to himself.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Zach stay in touch through high school and college.

Chris’ feet pound up the stairs.  He tosses his black Jansport on the floor, kicks off his running shoes, and flops backwards onto his bed with a bounce, his head almost knocking against the wall.  His long skinny legs dangle off the edge, sock-clad feet brushing the floor, thanks to his recent growth spurt. 

It’s his junior year of high school, and Chris is finally taller than most girls.  The trade off is that his frame appears thinner, sprouting gangly and awkward limbs that aren’t quite filled in with muscle yet.  Not that he isn’t trying.  It’s only October and baseball season won’t start for another four months, but Chris is bulking up already, determined to put some strength behind his new height and use it to his advantage on the field. 

Last week, his mom described him to his aunt as a puppy who hasn’t grown into his big paws and it made him groan with embarrassment.  Puppies are cute.  Puppies aren’t gawky high schoolers and don’t have acne or wear glasses or seem invisible to the cute girls in his class.  It doesn’t matter how much his mom can cup his chin and tell him he’s handsome, it’s not what he sees.

Chris slides his finger under the flap of the envelope and two folded sheets of looseleaf paper tumble onto the Nirvana t-shirt he’s wearing.  There’s this tremor of excited that runs through him whenever he gets a letter from his friend, but lately Zach’s sounded sad and angry, being down on himself and getting into yelling matches with his mom. 

It only takes him a couple minutes to read the letter.  Like last time, the main themes were insecurities, frustrations with classmates, and problems with his mom, even Joe now. 

On some things, Chris can completely sympathize.  They’re both slightly awkward and artsy, easy targets for the more popular kids.  Zach is teased a lot for his interest in theater and his involvement with the Drama Club.  Chris thinks it’s maybe the same as when he’s called a fag for being in the Poetry Club. 

But Chris has been fortunate in that he’s never really gotten into a big argument with his parents.  He’s certainly tried to pick fights, mostly over trivial things.  It doesn’t seem to rattle his mom much and her therapist training, though, so he gave up after a while.

He knows things are different for Zach and that things changed drastically in their house once Zach’s brother moved out to L.A.  At least when Joe was in college, he would stop by on weekends and buffer anything that brewed between Zach and their mom. It’s surprising to Chris that Zach’s having friction with his brother; if there’s anyone who’s always on Zach’s side, it’s Joe.

But even with all that, Chris can feel that there’s something Zach isn’t telling him.  He can see it in how erratic his handwriting is and the way his thoughts scatter across the page. 

He turns onto his side on the bed, and reads the letter again.  Afterward, he stares at the last paragraph, the contrast of the black ink on white paper burning into his retinas. 

 

 _I know it’s not polite to complain.  It’s all I ever do in these letters to you and you must be getting sick of it.  I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t write back -- you probably have your own problems and issues in your life that you want to figure out..._

 

His heart aches in a way that’s unfamiliar to him.  Chris walks over to his desk and plops down in his chair.  Rifling through his desk drawer, he finds a blue pen because black seems too dark and pessimistic.

 

 _Do you ever walk pass that guy in the hallway, you know, the guy who’s co-captain of the football team, ‘roided to the point where he can’t bend his arm behind him to scratch his back, but he’s popular and people think he’s funny and he’s always bragging about how much pussy he got over the weekend at his older brother’s fraternity, and wonder what it would be like to be him?_

 _I totally don’t, Zach.  And I don’t think you do either._

 _I don’t want to be him, now or ever.  My mom keeps telling me about how I’m not the type to peak in high school.  I think I know what she means.  I think the same is true of you.  There’s something better out there for both of us._

 

Chris scratches his head and thinks of something more lighthearted to tell Zach.  By the time he’s done, he’s written four pages worth of his thoughts on the Great Gatsby, his hopes for the upcoming baseball season, and stupid things that have happened to him over the last few weeks.  He hesitates before signing off and adds a quick thought.

 

 _I will always write back, Zach.  I might not have the most brilliant things to say, or even say the right things to make you feel better, but I’d never leave you hanging._

 

 

 

The week before Thanksgiving, there’s another letter from Zach.  It’s a single sheet of paper with four sentences.

 

 _I auditioned my heart out for the lead role in the play and didn’t get it.  I was so upset that I wrecked my mom’s car.  As if she wasn’t pissed enough at me, I then confessed something to her and she hasn’t stopped crying or spoken to me for days._

 _Chris, tell me I’m not some major disappointment?_   

 

Twenty minutes later, Chris is waiting in line at the post office, panting heavily after running the mile and a half to get there.  At the counter, the clerk looks at him with concern.

“I’d like to overnight this, sir.  To Pittsburgh,” Chris says, holding up a folded slip of paper in his hands with nothing written on it except for his name and phone number. 

The clerk nods and gives Chris the proper envelope and mailing label.  Chris scribbles down the address he’s had committed to memory for the last eight years.  He drops the half sheet of college-ruled paper he had torn from his Calculus notebook, the jagged edges still attached, into the large envelope and hands over a twenty dollar bill.

Chris hardly sleeps that night and fidgets his way through the next day.  At the dinner table, he catches his mom glancing at his plate, watching as he picks at his food with disinterest, a rare occurrence for Chris.  She doesn’t say anything about his apparent lack of appetite, and he’s thankful for the reprieve.  Eventually, he excuses himself and heads back up to his bedroom. 

He’s managed to reign in enough concentration to begin writing an essay for his AP U.S. History class when he hears the phone ring.  His hand freezes midword and he holds his breath.  His entire body is thrumming with anticipation when he hears his mom’s footsteps coming up the stairs.  He’s already at the door when she knocks on it.

“Is it for me?” he asks quickly.

She blinks and nods, handing over the cordless handset.

Chris takes it from her, gives her a little smile, and closes the door.  Making his way over to his bed, he sits on the edge, bouncing his knee and feeling his heart pound in his throat.  He holds the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Chris?  It’s me.  It’s Zach.”

His voice is deep but soft and warm, and more than a little hesitant. He sounds exactly like Chris had expected.

“Hi, Zach.”

Chris falls back onto his bed and grins. 

“Hi,” Zach says again.  It’s funny, but Chris thinks he can hear Zach’s smile.  “It’s good to hear your voice,” Zach adds.

“Yeah, we should’ve thought of this sooner.”

They talk for hours, chuckling and joking about things, their conversation winding every which way, until Zach grows quiet. 

“Chris... I need to tell you something.”  Zach sounds worried, almost pained.  “It’s... some of my friends here know, kind of.  They figured it out, I guess.  My mom, she freaked when I told her.  That’s what the big fight was about.  She’s better now.  We had sort of had a talk this morning.  But I... umm...”

Chris stares up at the ceiling and waits.  “Just spit it out,” he says quietly.

There’s a long pause before he hears Zach take a deep breath.

“I’m gay,” Zach whispers.

“Okay,” Chris responds. 

“Do you... Is it weird?”

Chris shakes his head and then rolls his eyes at himself for forgetting that Zach can’t see him. 

“No, it’s not weird.” 

“It feels weird.  Saying it out loud, I mean.  I think that’s only the third time I’ve said it to someone,” Zach confesses, his voice more relaxed now. 

“Say it five times fast now,” Chris tells him.

“I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay I’m gay.”

“See?  That wasn’t so bad.”  Chris grins.  “You just need to practice it.”  He hears Zach chuckle.  “No, but for serious.  Thanks for telling me.  I know that probably wasn’t easy.  It’s like, an honor, you know, or something like that, cause you’ve only told a few people and I’m one of them.  But a lot of the things you mentioned in your letters make a lot more sense to me now.”

“It really doesn’t bother you?” Zach asks.

Chris shrugs.  “You’re still the same Zach.  That’s all that matters.”

They sit in silence for a few beats.

“So,” Chris begins.  “If you need to, like... if it makes you feel better, you can talk about cute boys in your class.  I don’t want you to feel like you can’t do that.  You can tell me anything.”

The sound of Zach’s laugh is reassuring.  “Chris, I wish you were here.”

Chris sighs.  “I wish I was, too, Zach.”

 

***

 

He wakes up around two in the afternoon, cranky and hungover.  His roommate’s already gone, probably off to the library or something.  Chris forces himself to get up, shower, drink a gallon of water, and eat something that resembles the leftovers of a calzone.

He plops down at his desk and gives his mouse a shake.  His computer screen comes to life.  With a yawn, Chris checks his email and signs on to ICQ. 

Immediately, a message appears from Zach.  It was sent while Chris was offline.

 

 **Zach:** are you serious?  are you absolutely sure?  message me when you get this. i want all the deets.

 

Chris has no idea what Zach talking about.  He glances up at his contacts lists and sees the little flower next to Zach’s name is green.  It’s almost four in the afternoon, which means it’s almost seven in New York.  He clicks in the chat window below Zach’s message.

 

 **Chris:** What are you talking about?

 

Within seconds, he sees Zach typing in the window.

 

 **Zach:** you sent me a message last night.  you were druuunk off your ass.  said you kissed a guy at some party.  and that you kind of liked it.  anything you want to share with the class, christopher?

 

Chris squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember what happened.  He was at the Cal game, they beat U of O, he went to some party with his roommate and some other friends... the rest is kind of hazy. 

No, wait.  He remembers running into Monica.  She touched his hand, said she wanted to get back together.  Okay, now he definitely remembers kissing her.  Chris groans inwardly, knowing that she’s probably going to want to have a ‘talk’ about that.  God, girls and their feelings. 

He gets bits and pieces of a different party, tiki torches, some dude with a coconut bra, sitting on a dirty couch with Scott from his Contemporary American Poetry class...

And it hits him like a truck.  He kissed Scott.

 

 **Chris:** oh shit. ****

**Chris:** motherfucking shit fuckballs. I kissed some dude from my poetry class.

 **Zach:** what do you remember?

 **Chris:** like, nothing

 **Zach:** are you freaking out?

 **Chris:** maybe?

 

He doesn’t really know what to think.

Scott had been in the same writing course as Chris last spring when they were sophomores, and it was apparent to Chris right away that Scott was smart, creative, and a gifted writer.  They had been paired as peer feedback partners for a couple writing assignments and Chris wasn’t surprised that they ended up in another class together this semester, or that the two of them had the most to contribute to the discussions. 

It was about a month ago that Chris became more and more intrigued by him.  As soon as Chris arrived at class, he would glance around to see where Scott was sitting.  He tried to pick a desk not too close, but close enough that Scott could see him or notice him.  Then, Chris started making mental lists of friends they had in common, and thought about him at random times or thought about what Scott might say about something he read.  He caught himself staring at Scott’s hands one day in class and it dawned on him: this what he does when he’s interested in a girl. 

Chris never had problems admitting to thinking that certain guys were attractive, but this was the first time he was actually _attracted to_ a guy. He did the obvious thing: freak out.

A few days passed and Chris did his best to not think about Scott, but then his classmate smiled at him after a spirited dissection during class and Chris blushed so hard his face hurt.  He hurried back to his dorm room with his head ducked, as if someone who saw him might know the thoughts running through his mind, and jerked off to the mental image of Scott smiling down at him, kissing and touching his chest.  

 

 **Zach:** it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, you know

 **Zach:** it doesn’t mean like, you’re GAY

 **Zach:** like, I’m sure you’ve kissed totally platonic female friends at some point and it meant nothing

 **Zach:** you were drunk and

 **Chris:** actually

 **Chris:** I think I have a crush on this guy

 

Chris watches as Zach types out a couple words, deletes them, starts over, and deletes them again.

 **  
**

**Zach:** is this real?  are you really into guys?  or this just some experimental thing you’re doing?

 **Chris:** I think it’s real?

 **Chris:** for sure I like this guy

 **Chris:** I still like girls though

 **Zach:** geez, greedy much?

 **Zach:** just kidding

 

He keeps having these fantasies about Scott.  Sometimes they’re in Chris’ dorm room, other times they’re in an empty classroom.  But it never progresses beyond kissing and touching.  The idea of touching someone else’s dick makes him freeze with fear, which he thinks is ridiculous because he has absolutely no problems when it comes to perky breasts or a nice ass on a girl.  It’s like being a virgin all over again.

 

 **Chris:** can I tell you something weird?

 **Zach:** sure

 **Chris:** you can’t tell anyone

 **Chris:** and you can’t judge me

 **Zach:** chris, come on, it’s me

 

Chris takes a deep breath.  He’s never told anyone about Scott, and he can’t think of any of his friends, even his gay friends at Berkeley, that he can have this conversation with besides Zach.

 

 **Chris:** I get nervous thinking about what to do with someone else’s dick

 **Chris:** like, I think I want to, you know, but I’m afraid of making a fool out of myself

 **Chris:** it’s dumb cause I have one too, so you’d think it be way more intuitive than when I’m getting with a girl right?

 **Chris:** I’m such a freak, I’m intimidated by penises

 

His cursor blinks at him.  Zach doesn’t type anything for a while.

 

 **Chris:** you’re laughing at me, aren’t you?

 **Zach:** no, i’m just trying to think

 **Zach:** I don’t think it’s dumb

 **Zach:** we’re talking about blowjobs right?

 **Chris:** yeah

 **Zach:** I guess I was kind of the same in the beginning

 **Zach:** it’s that way when you’re with anyone for the first time

 **Zach:** but l think it’s different when you’re both vulnerable and exposed and caught up in the moment, like you won’t be so nervous?

 **Zach:** I think when the time’s right, you’ll figure it out

 **Zach:** you know what I mean?

 **Chris:** yeah

 **Chris:** yeah, I get what you mean

 

They’re both silent for a while as Chris thinks things over.

 

 **Zach:** are you ok?

 **Chris:** I think so

 **Zach:** do you want like, pointers?

 **Chris:** no

 **Zach:** do you want to keep talking about this or change the topic?

 **Chris:** yes please change the topic

 **Zach:** you want to know what’s going on with me?

 **Chris:** yeah

 **Zach:** chuck broke up with me

 **Chris:** I’m sorry, Zach

 **Zach:** yeah, i mean, i’m not surprised

 **Zach:** four weeks, though

 **Zach:** that’s a new record for me

 **Zach:** it’s ok, cause there’s this guy in one of my classes that keeps flirting with me

 

Chris chuckles as Zach tells him about his latest escapades. It’s a lot easier for Zach to meet and date other guys now that he’s left his small town to study theater at NYU.  And he certainly takes advantage of it. Zach’s confidence grew quickly once he arrived at college, and soon Chris couldn’t keep track of the guys he was seeing.

Even though Zach seems much happier in some respects, Chris knows that casual dating and one night stands got old for Zach after his first year of college.  He’s joked more than once about how he thinks he’s got a two-week expiration date etched into his forehead, but Chris senses the hurt and disappointment behind it. 

 

 **Zach:** so, this might sound weird because i know you’re kind of confused about things

 **Zach:** but i’m happy for you

 **Chris:** happy cause dicks terrify me?

 **Zach:** shut up

 **Zach:** happy cause it’s exciting

 **Chris:** yeah

 **Chris:** yeah, you’re right

 **Zach:** good luck and be safe, you know, condoms and all

 **Chris:** omg please don’t

 **Zach:** ok, now I’m laughing at you

 **Chris:** HA fucking HA

 **Zach:** all joking aside

 **Zach:** this is one of those times when i wish with all my might that i could be there with you

 **Chris:** yeah, me too

 **Chris:** I wish you were here

 

Days pass and nothing has happened with Scott.  Neither of them mention that night, and Chris figures it’s just as well when he’s at a party the following weekend and he sees his classmate with his hands down the pants of their TA.

 

 

 

Napster’s being a total bitch.  Chris groans when three of his eight downloads fail.  His flight to San Francisco for winter break leaves tomorrow and he absolutely _needs_ to burn these songs for his discman.  He’s watching the remaining three like a hawk when he gets an ICQ message from Zach.

 

 **Zach:** are you busy?

 **Chris:** just dl’ing music

 **Zach:** anything good?

 **Chris:** no

 **Zach:** more britney? i swear you’re getting gayer everytime talk to you

 **Chris:** shut up or I won’t burn it for you

 **Zach:** as if

 **Zach:** bought that cd the day it came out

 **Zach:** ok, back to the really important thing I wanted to talk to you about

 **Chris:** ok

 **Zach:** I think we should nix the plans for you to come visit ny for spring break

 **Zach:** I have a better idea

 **Chris:** umm ok

 **Zach:** come to ny for the summer

 **Zach:** I’m thinking of staying here to take classes and you can totally do the same

 **Zach:** and I’m positive the credits will transfer to Berkeley

 

Chris stares at his screen.  Zach is a fucking genius.

 

 **Chris:** you’re a fucking genius

 **Zach:** I know

 **Chris:** wait, how much is this going to cost

 **Zach:** a lot

 **Zach:** but if we both work all of spring break, we could save up extra cash

 **Chris:** there’s no way we’ll save up a summer’s worth of money in one week

 **Zach:** no, you’re right

 **Zach:** we can whore ourselves for cash

 **Chris:** no

 **Zach:** ok

 **Zach:** what if we get jobs over the summer too? 

 **Zach:** and pick up more hours for work-study in the spring?

 **Chris:** that might work

 **Chris:** i’ll have to think about it

 **Chris:** I don’t know if my parents would be on board with it

 **Zach:** yeah, I understand

 **Zach:** but think about it? pleeeease?

 **Chris:** yeah, I swear I will

 **Chris:** it would be so much fun

 

Chris is about to go to bed when Zach e-mails him and gives him the link for NYU’s Summer Session schedule and courses.

 

c,

 _i know it’s a huge huge IF and you’re not sure if you can afford it.  BUT.  just think about how much fun we’d have together in nyc for the summer! IT’LL BE SO FUCKING DIESEL!  we can be roommates!  we’ll go to classes and work part-time during the day and I’ll show you around the city at night!  i’m going to start looking into off-campus housing for the summer once I get back from winter break.  talk it over with your parents and let me know._

 _e-mail me when you get in.  i’ll be bored out of my mind at home._

 _travel safe,_

 _z_

 

Chris clicks on the link and before he’s even done scrolling through the list of classes offered, his mind’s already made up.  He doesn’t care how much he’ll have to work next semester to save up for it.  He’s going to New York for the summer.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris spends the summer in New York with Zach.

The second of his two duffel bags rounds the corner of the luggage carousel and Chris steps forward to grab the handle and pull it off the conveyor.  He adjusts his backpack, slings the first bag over his shoulder and carries the other one in his hand, leaning its weight on his leg and kicking it with his knee as he walks.

Moving away from the other passengers trying to claim their baggage, Chris finds a bench and sets his stuff down by it.  He glances around and sits, then stands back up, shifting from foot to foot with excitement and anticipation.  After he calls his mom to let her know he’s arrived safely, he rummages through his bag for the cookie he brought with him on the plane. 

Suddenly, there’s a small tap on his shoulder.  Chris turns around and stares for a moment.  They had e-mailed photos of themselves to one another, so Chris knows what Zach looks like, but seeing him in person now -- his warm eyes blinking, his bangs sweeping over his forehead, his animated features -- is breathtaking. 

“Chris.”

Chris grins in response and nods.  “Zach.”

They pull each other into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around the other.

“It’s so awesome to finally meet you,” Zach says into Chris’ shoulder. 

“Oh my God, yeah.  So awesome.”

Zach lets go of him and already Chris misses the contact, the feel of Zach, solid and real against him.  There’s a bashful smile on Zach’s face as he reaches in the front pocket of his worn jeans and takes out a small rectangle.  Hesitantly, he holds it up next to Chris’ face, his eyes darting between the two. 

Chris tries to glance at it from the corner of his eye and laughs as he reaches up to grab Zach’s hand to see what he’s holding.  It takes a second for it to register that it’s a photo of him, and another second for him to remember that it’s his third grade photo he’d sent Zach when they were kids.

A wave of emotion, overwhelming gratitude perhaps, washes over Chris.  He fishes his wallet out of his cargo pants and slides Zach’s third grade photo out from behind one of the folds.  Chris holds it up and shows Zach. 

“At least you got rid of your bowl cut,” Chris says.

“At least your teeth aren’t as crunk,” Zach responds with a quirked eyebrow.

They both chuckle, put away the photos, and without asking, Zach takes one of Chris’ bags.

“You hungry?” Zach as they leave the terminal.

“Always.”

The subway ride back takes over an hour, but Chris doesn’t notice as the two chatter away, making plans for their summer and all the places they’ll go.  Chris wonders if it’s strange to feel so comfortable around someone that he’s only just met.  Even as they walk down the sidewalk in the East Village to the apartment they’ll be sharing, they fall in step next each other as if they’d been doing it all their lives.

“Okay, don’t freak out, but there really wasn’t any other sublets affordable on our budget that was still close enough for us walk to campus,” Zach tells him as he jiggles the key in the lock of the third floor walk-up.  “There’s only one bedroom but there’s a futon in the main room and I figured we could take turns and swap every week.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Chris says. 

Zach pushes the door open and gestures for Chris to walk in first.  “Home sweet home.”

The place is tiny.  And hot.  The living room has only the futon Zach mentioned, a small side table, and a rolling away cart with a TV propped on top.  Tucked away into the corner is a sink, stove, fridge, and about a foot of counterspace. 

“Want a tour?” Zach asks brightly.

Chris nods and drops his bag.

“Well, living room,” says, waving his arms in front of him.  He points to the corner. “Kitchen.  Sort of.”  Zach goes around the corner to a room that barely fits a full mattress on the floor, a small bookshelf, and a desk.  “Bedroom.  Oh, that’s my computer.  Go ahead and use it whenever you need to,” he says, pointing to the desk, and then nods his head across the way.  “Bathroom.”

“Wow,” Chris says under his breath.

“I know, it’s... it’s...” Zach winces, his shoulders slumping.

“It’s home, dude,” Chris finishes.  He turns to Zach.  “Honestly, I think we can make the best of it.”

Zach tilts his head and studies Chris for a few seconds.  He grins and grabs Chris by the arms, shaking him.  “I’m so excited you’re here!” he squeals and laughs, and Chris ends up hugging him again.

They’ve planned it so that they’re taking Drama in Literature together.  It’s really an excuse for them to read and go see plays together.  Chris can’t believe he’s actually going to earn credits to essentially enjoy New York and hang out with Zach.

In his off time, Chris works part-time at the Strand, stocking and taking inventory on their used books.  It pays decently for a summer job and has the added perks of a discount on anything in the store, plus three freebies per week off their dollar shelves.  Zach finds a work-study job as a barista closer to campus and sneaks Chris all the free coffees he wants.  They get Chris a fake New Jersey ID just in time for Zach’s twenty-first birthday. 

“Hey!” Zach winds his way through the crowded bar to where Chris is huddled with Neal and Matt.  “I want to get my eyebrow pierced.”

“You’re also kind of drunk,” Matt yells over the noise.

“No no no.  I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Zach says, his hand gesticulating wildly in front of him.  It’s always more pronounced when he’s drinking.  “But, like, you know my thing with needles.”

The three of them nod as Corey walks up to them. 

“So I need to be drunk to do this.  It needs to happen tonight.”

“You’ve really thought about this?  Like, you didn’t just come up with this cause that dude over there,” Chris points with his hand around a bottle of Newcastle to a guy in the crowd with an eyebrow piercing, “has one and you think it looks badass?”

They all turn to look.

Zach grabs Chris’ shoulder.  “I’ll be so badass with an eyebrow ring.”

A half hour later, Zach is lying in something that looks like a dentist’s chair in the backroom of a tattoo and piercing parlor on St. Marks.  Neal and Chris are each holding one of his hands while Matt and Corey interrogate one of the employees on their licenses and sterile techniques. 

“Oh my God, I’m really doing this, aren’t I?” Zach whispers.

“You don’t have to.  We can leave,” Neal says, his worried eyes catching Chris’ for a brief moment.

“No, I want to.  I really do,” Zach says to himself, closing his eyes and pulling his knees together as if he has to pee.

“Just for the record, Zach, you don’t need to do this to be badass.  I already think you are,” Chris tells him and brushes a few strands of hair off his forehead.

Zach opens his eyes and smiles up at Chris.  Then squeezes his eyes shut until it’s completely over.

When they get home, Zach is already regretting his decision, moaning on his back and cursing his decision to get the piercing. 

“But was the needle like, really scary?  Or just kind of scary?” Zach asks.

“It was super scary.  Like the ones they give pregnant women in labor,” Chris says.

“Really?”

“No.”

Chris presses a bag of frozen peas to Zach’s brow and stretches out next to him on the futon.  The room is stifling hot, even with the beat-up window A/C unit they bought off Craigslist running on full blast.  Chris is drawn to the coolness of the frozen peas and they crunch as he leans his forehead against them. 

“Happy birthday, Zach,” he says quietly and they fall asleep together with a bag of thawing vegetables between their heads.

 

 

 

The next few weeks fly by in a blissful whirlwind.  During the day, Chris and Zach go to lectures or off-Broadway plays and work at their jobs in between.  At night, Zach takes Chris all over the city.  They end up at hole-in-the-wall eateries, moody jazz clubs, secret bars in the backs of restaurants where patrons have to knock on a door behind a curtain and give them a password. 

On the weekends, Zach makes sure to drag him to the Empire State Building, Ellis Island, the Twin Towers and all usual touristy places, just so Chris can say he’s done it.  They venture into Brooklyn and Queens, eating their way from one neighborhood to the next.

They run out of money the third week of June and both call home, desperately begging their moms for help. 

Scaling back on their bar-hopping means that they find cheaper ways to entertain themselves.  Zach finds free concerts and plays in Central Park, and they head off after work with a ratty blanket, their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and mosquito repellant.  Sometimes they just walk and wander around the humid city, stopping periodically to watch skateboarders and performers in parks as Chris reads Allen Ginsberg poems out loud to Zach. 

Everything he sees and everywhere he goes feels like its steeped in history, art, culture, and inspiration.  It’s the free-spirited, fake bohemian, urbanized idyllic life that Chris never thought he’d ever want.  The romance of it all is intoxicating and Chris is helpless to not fall in love with it.  And at every step, Zach is by his side.

They watch Fourth of July fireworks on the rooftop of an apartment of some friends.  It’s the early am by the time they leave and they’re too tired to walk across the island so they jump on the subway.  Even at this hour, the trains are packed because of the holiday and they’re forced to lean against each other to keep from toppling into other riders.  Chris holds Zach’s elbow and they giggle as the train jerks suddenly, metal breaks screeching, and they knock into a tall drag queen.

Chris has been thinking about it all night.  If he’s completely honest, he’s been thinking about it for weeks.  It’s no secret that Zach gets hit on constantly by guys.  Cute ones, too, but not once has Zach ever flirted back seriously, or approached someone at a bar since Chris has been in town.  Chris had told him at one point that he wouldn’t mind crashing with Neal or one of the other guys if Zach wanted the apartment for the night.  Zach just laughed and elbowed him, handing him the other half his warm pretzel. 

Sometimes, he catches Zach staring at him, and they both quickly turn away, neither of them saying a word.  He doesn’t want to read into what those looks might mean, but he wants so badly for it to confirm that that he hasn’t been imagining this thing that’s been building between them.  For whatever reason, though, he’s feeling bold and brave tonight.

The train jumps again, pushing their chests together and leaving their faces just two inches apart.  Zach’s heart is hammering right up next to his and he makes no move to lean away, so Chris tips his head forward, presses his lips to Zach’s, and feels his heart leap when Zach kisses him back.  They cling to each other, kissing sweetly before blue eyes lock on brown as if they’re the only two people that exist on the crowded and hot train. 

He doesn’t remember how they got home.  All he can focus on now is the way Zach’s eyes are on him as they stand on opposite sides of the futon.  The room is dark, but Chris can see that he’s blushing, and suddenly he feels shy, too.  He pulls off his t-shirt and holds it in his hands for a second before dropping it to the floor.  Zach does the same and then ducks his head. 

Chris stares at Zach, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, toned arms, and fuzzed chest.  His gaze wanders lower, to the trail of dark hair that disappears under his shorts.  It’s not like he’s never seen Zach shirtless, but it’s the first time he’s been allowed to actually look.  It makes him blush.  Chris glances up to see that Zach’s similarly studying him with shy curiosity and desire.  They both smile coyly and avert their eyes to finish undressing themselves.

Moving slowly to the middle of the futon, Zach sits and reaches out for him.  His eyes roam over Zach and he thinks he’s never seen anything so exquisite.  Zach’s simply beautiful and perfect.  That stuff Zach once said to him about forgetting his apprehensions because the person in front him is all that occupies his senses and thoughts is completely true.  Chris had fallen in love with more than just the city.  His heart is racing, about to pound right out of his chest.  He slides his hand into Zach’s and crawls to him.  Zach kisses him tenderly and runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls back.

“What do you want?” Zach whispers.

“You.  All of you, any of you.”

Zach smiles and cups his face.  “You sure?  Because it’s not the same as with girls.”

With a nod, Chris smiles back.  “I hope not.”

He tries to be gentle with Zach, carefully following his instructions, up to a point, and then instinct kicks in and they move together as though they were trying to devour each other.  It doesn’t last long, and Chris comes first, his mouth pressed to Zach’s, whimpering and sobbing.  A few seconds later, Zach spills between their sweaty bodies and Chris’ heart clenches when he hears his name on Zach’s lips.

They skip class and spend the next day on the futon.  Chris is intent on learning all of Zach, knowing every moan and every shiver that he’s able to coax out of him with this mouth and hands.  When Zach tells him it’s easier if he’s on his hands and knees, Chris grins and refuses. 

“I want to see your face,” he whispers, and Zach relents.  Chris pulls him closer, feels Zach push deeper within him, and thinks the fire in his belly could consume the both of them.

 

 

 

Before they know it, July becomes August and their classes end.  Chris wakes up tangled in Zach’s limbs every morning, the cool with artificial air from the A/C billowing over them, and he’s content in a way he’s never been before. 

Sometimes Zach gets a look of uncertainty and doubt, and Chris has to smooth his fingers and lips over Zach’s worry lines. 

“Do I make you happy?” Chris asks.

“Unbelievably so,” Zach replies.

As their days wind down, they hold each other’s hands a bit tighter and spend a little more time each morning tracing fingertips over heated and freckled skin. 

They’re walking home the night before Chris leaves, after having dinner and drinks with the rest of the guys.  Zach’s been quiet and distant all day.  Chris reaches for Zach’s hand and startles when Zach pulls away. 

“Zach?”

His expression is anguished when he turns to Chris.  They stop and Zach’s mouth fumbles for words, his hand brushing over his face.

“What are you doing?” Chris asks, unable to keep the worry out of his voice.  “Zach, come on.”  He reaches for Zach again, but Zach shakes his head.

“You’re leaving me tomorrow, Chris.”

“I know, Zach.  I know.”  Chris covers his face briefly.  “I don’t want to go either.  But I’ll come back next summer after we graduate, just like we planned.”

“And what do we do in between?”

“We’ve talked about this,” Chris says. “We’ll write.  Call.  Visit during breaks.”

Zach is silent for a long while and Chris places a hand on his arm, hoping that the touch is enough to dissolve the doubt in Zach’s mind.

“What happened?  What are you thinking, Zach?  Tell me.  You can tell me anything,” Chris says softly.

He takes a few steps away from Chris, kicks at the sidewalk with his head down.  When he looks up at Chris, tears have filled his eyes. 

“I can’t do this.  I’m so frightened.  I terrified you’re going to go back to your wonderful California life and forget about me and meet someone else.”

Chris steps closer.  “Is that what this is about?  You think I’ll leave you for someone else?”  He shakes his head in disbelief.  “Zach --” 

“I know you say you want to be with me now, but eventually you’ll get sick of this -- _me_ \--,” he emphasizes and points to his chest, “and you’ll want a perfect, normal life, like, the wife and kids things.  I can’t give that to you.”  The tears spill down Zach’s cheeks.

“Are you serious?” he asks as panic, anger, and frustration mix in his chest.  “Fucking... I can’t even think right now, Zach.  What will it take for you to believe me?  Up until five minutes ago my perfect, normal life was here with you!”  His yells echo down the street and his vision blurs with angry tears.  “I would have moved here to be with you for as long as you’d have me.  This isn’t some summer fling for me.  Or some gay experiment.  This is real!  This is real and honest and pure!”

“I know it is!”  Zach throws his arms out to the side.  “And that’s exactly why I don’t want to be devastated three months from now when you call me in the middle of the night to say that you’re done with me!”  Zach wipes at his face. 

“So your unfounded fear about me _possibly_ breaking up with you sometime in the next year gives you the right to just go ahead and break up with me now?  God, you fucking drama student, you’re dreaming about how we’ll break up when I’m dreaming about how we’ll have a future together!  This is not some Shakespearean tragedy!” Chris spits.

“I’m just trying to spare myself the inevitable!”

“The inevitable!” Chris laughs bitterly.  “Wow, okay, that doesn’t hurt or anything.” 

A woman walking her dog crosses to the opposite side of the street, giving them some semblance of privacy to their public argument.

Zach takes a shuddering breath.  “Whatever this is,” he gestures between them, “it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m so terrified of you deciding one day to take it away.  So yes.  Yes, it makes me selfish.  Yes, I’d rather push you away than be left because I’ve been left too many times by too many people who I thought would stick around.  My dad, my brother, my friends from high school, every guy I’ve ever slept with... none of them of _stayed_.  And I can’t... if you left me, too...  If you _choose_ to not be with me.”

Zach’s face crumbles and he turns to walk away, but Chris catches his wrist and tugs on it until he stops. 

“I’d never leave you, Zach.  I never have.  Deep down, you know that.”  He takes Zach’s hand in his.  “I’m sorry I can’t erase how you’ve been hurt in the past, but none of that was because of you.  None of it was personal.  Your dad passed away.  Your brother moved for his career.  Your friends grew apart.  And those other guys, they weren’t in it for you, they were in it for casual sex.”  He sighs and squeezes Zach’s hand.  “Zach, you’re not someone that’s easy to walk away from.  You need to believe that.”

The fight bleeds out of Zach and he lets Chris pull him into his arms.  He shifts and squeezes Chris, holding him so tightly that it’s hard for Chris to breathe.  The apologies he’s sobbing into Chris’ shoulder seep through his damp shirt and into his skin. Chris closes his eyes, trying the memorize the way Zach feels pressed against him, and feels tears burning their way down his cheeks. 

It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to cling on, he knows from the way Zach won’t look him in the eye that he’s already made up his mind, and the sparkle of their summer fairytale crashes and scatters along the cracked sidewalk.

It takes several minutes, but eventually Zach’s breathing steadies and he lets go.  Chris wipes his fingers over the tearstains on Zach’s face. 

“I’m just not ready for this, Chris,” he says, his voice soft.  “It’s not fair of me drag you down with my juvenile problems.  You deserve better.”

Chris shakes his head and kisses Zach.  “They’re not juvenile.  They are what they are.  And I’ve tried, but if I can’t convince you that you’re worth fighting to stay with, then you need to figure out a way to convince yourself.”  He places a kiss on Zach’s nose.  “I’m willing to see you through it.  I think we belong together,” he whispers, cradling Zach’s head.  “I think we can get through this together.”  He rubs his thumb over Zach’s cheek.  “Do I make you happy?”

Zach hesitates, and nods. 

“But it’s not enough, is it?” Chris asks.

“No.”

Chris blinks and feels his eyes refilling with tears.  “I don’t want to, but if this is what you truly, honestly think is what you need right now, then I won’t force you to stay with me.  Not if it’ll just make you unhappy in the process.”

They go back to the apartment and stay in separate rooms that night, but neither of them sleep.  In the morning, Chris sorts through their pile of dirty laundry to finds his clothes to pack up.  He takes one of Zach’s shirts and hopes that he’ll understand when he realizes it’s missing. 

At the door of their sublet, Chris hugs Zach and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Please?” he whispers, as he pulls away.

Zach shakes his head, eyes trained on the floor, and Chris nods sadly.

“I’ll call you when I get in?” Chris offers.

“Okay.”

He gives Zach’s hand one last squeeze before turning and leaving.

 

 

 

Chris returns to his parents’ house in L.A. and stays in bed for a week.  His one phone conversation with Zach was short and awkward in way that they’ve never been.  Zach hasn’t called him since the day he arrived back in California. 

His mother knows something happened, but is kind enough to not press.  On his birthday, she smiles hopefully and hands him an envelope.  He sits up so quickly that he falls out of his bed.

 

 _Dear Chris,_

 _I wanted to wish you the happiest of birthdays, but every part of me is wracked with guilt thinking that what I’ve done might be causing you even a fraction of the misery that I’m feeling right now._

 _It’s hard, Chris, to see your ghost everywhere in this city, your smile whenever I close my eyes.  I miss you so much that it physically hurts.  Like something’s been cut out of my chest.  And I know it’s all my fault._

 _In case it wasn’t clear, Chris, in case there was any doubt in your mind: I’m in love with you.  I have been for years, long before we met.  It used to be that my greatest wish was to meet you, the constant friend when so many things in my life felt uncertain. Now, I only wish that I could’ve gotten rid of all those things that kept me from being the best version of myself before I met you, because I didn’t ever want to disappoint you and give you a reason to leave._

 _I know I have no right to, but I’m going to ask one more thing of you: please don’t write back.  Not yet, anyway.  I know it’s always about me, and what I need, but you’ve always been the stronger of the two of us, pulling me up to my feet when I was down -- I just need to do this on my own, Chris._

 _Have a wonderful birthday and know that from many, many miles away, I’m thinking of you.  Always._

 _Love,_

 _Zach_

 

Chris feels his blood run cold.  This isn’t just a break up.  This is Zach removing all of himself from Chris’ life.  No more e-mails, online chat, phone calls, letters... 

He ignores Zach and begins writing him immediately. 

But a week later, his letter is returned to him.  On the back of the unopened envelope, he sees Zach’s handwriting:

 

 _I knew you’d ignore me.  Maybe.  Someday._

 

His mother finds him sobbing in his childhood room, surrounded by all of the letters Zach’s ever sent over the last thirteen years.  The knuckles of his hands are white as he clutches Zach’s shirt.  He feels foolish, crying like a baby, but falls in her lap and tells her everything.  She offers a smile, says she’s suspected as much, and assures him that he’ll survive and move on, even though he feels like his world has ended.

 

 

 

Eventually, month and months later, Chris thinks he’s found some form of happiness, but doesn’t think he’ll ever feel that the same brightness and sunny hope that he had that summer.  Maybe it was just the magic of New York.  Maybe some things are meant to be ephemeral. 

He thinks about how there are people who come into your life and change it irreversibly, and then drift away.  Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.  Chris doesn’t like to think that he and Zach won’t ever drift back together at some point, even though years have passed and they’ve lost touch completely.  Judging by Zach’s last message, he doesn’t think so either.  Ever the romantic, Chris hopes that one day, after he’s worked up the courage to go back and visit New York, he’ll run into Zach in a used bookstore with a copy of _Howl_ in his hands.  The details that have been rubbed away and faded with time, much like the photograph that he still keeps in his wallet, will get filled in again. 

But if not, then that’s okay, too.  The important things he wants to remember about Zach aren’t in the details in what he can see when he closes his eyes. They’re in the way Chris grins when he hears a song by Guster or Neutral Milk Hotel, and in the rush of adrenaline he gets when he sees an amazing play.  And in the feeling he gets, deep in his bones, when he’s gazing up into the sky at bursting fireworks, because he knows that he’s changed Zach for the better, too.  

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor shows up on Chris’ doorstep.

Chris juggles his notebook and binder, trying not to get the condensation from his iced coffee cup onto any papers.  The meeting with his editor didn’t take too long, and it doesn’t seem like there’s much more that he needs to do.  If all goes well, the final edits will get done in the next couple weeks, just in time for the trip he has planned to New York. 

He’s making a mental list of all the places he wants to visit in the city and trying to unclip his keys from his beltloop that he doesn’t notice the person sitting on his front doorstep.  When he sees a pair of Converse sneakers on the second step, he stops, looks up, and gasps.  His iced coffee crashes to the pavement as he stares.  Zach stands up and looks helplessly at the rivets of coffee that run into the cracks of the sidewalk.

Chris doesn’t think it’s possible, but Zach’s even more beautiful now than when they were in college.  The eyebrow ring is gone and the eyebrows themselves are more groomed and shapely.  His distinctive bone structure is still there, but under a more mature and handsome face, unobscured by his hair, now that it’s brushed back.  It’s easy to see, even with clothes on, that the rest of him has also filled out.  He’s still thin, but his chest is broader and his arms defined by lean ropes of muscles.  Zach stands a bit taller now, shoulders held up with confidence.  His eyes are still the same: warm, brown, and hopeful, lined by those thick and dark lashes, and Chris suddenly remembers what they feel like brushing against his cheekbone.

A slow smile spreads across Chris’ face, turning into a grin.  Zach looks relieved, the tension dropping from his shoulders, and he mirrors Chris’ wide smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Chris responds.

“Umm, yeah, sorry to just drop by like this.  I probably should have called first,” Zach says quietly.

“No, this is... this is cool.  How long are you in town for?”

Zach grins and shoves his hands in his pockets.  “Actually, I’m not visiting.  I moved here.  Two weeks ago.  I stayed with Matt and his boyfriend for a couple days, and then Joe, while I looked for my own place.  I didn’t realize you lived, like, ten minutes from me until Matt told me.  He gave me your address, said that you guys meet up occasionally for dinner,” Zach confesses slowly.

“Oh, yeah.”  Chris blinks, trying to process what Zach’s just told him.  “Well, I guess, welcome to the neighborhood.  Umm.  You’re here for acting?”

Zach looks down at his feet.  “Yeah, I did a couple plays off-Broadway...”  He looks up at Chris and shrugs.  “I thought I’d see what it was like out here.  Change of scenery, I guess.”

“That’s so cool, Zach.  I’m really happy you got some gigs off-Broadway.  That was always your dream.”  Chris suddenly laughs as he picks up his empty coffee cup. He’s not sure he believes that Zach’s really in front of him.  “You busy now or you want to come inside and we can catch up instead of hanging out on my front stoop?”

Zach’s face lights up.  “Yeah.  I mean, as long as you have time.”

After a brief tour of his house, they sit in the kitchen and talk about what they’ve been doing since they last spoke.  Chris offers to show him around Silverlake and they wander around, looking for a place to get dinner. It’s then that Chris shyly admits to dabbling in acting and having some bit parts in local theater productions in addition to his career as a writer.  Zach just smiles.

“Is your dad happy you’ll be carrying on the family business?” he asks teasingly.

“He’s my biggest fan.  Asks for the best seat in the house even if I’ve only got five lines.”

It shouldn’t be surprising that their conversation flows so naturally and Chris is quickly enchanted by Zach again.  There’s so much of him that’s matured and grounded, but his laugh is the same, and so is the way he moves his hands around when he’s talking passionately about something, like he’s juggling the words as they come out of his mouth. 

Chris feels this pang of longing in his chest.  They’ll never go back to that summer, never be those two boys so madly, blindly, and recklessly in love. 

Maybe Zach was right.  Maybe they were too young and naïve.  They burned too brightly and too quickly, and they probably would’ve self-destructed.  And it would’ve been even more devastating than how things actually ended.

He looks at Zach over their iced teas and burritos and wonders if he’s thinking the same.

After dinner, they stop by a bakery, split a cookie for dessert and end up on a park bench near the dog run.

“Did you forgive me?” Zach asks quietly.

Chris smiles.  “No, never.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Chris clears his throat.  “Maybe I did.  I don’t know.  You were the most brilliant yet traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me.  It wasn’t so much the break up as much as...”

“The way I cut things off cold turkey,” Zach finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

Zach nods.  “I can’t forgive myself either.  I wish I could explain how sorry I am.”

Chris waves his hand casually.  “Don’t do that.”  He quickly adds, “I mean, I’m not making light of it.  It’s just, I know.  I don’t have any regrets when I think of you.  We don’t need to pick it apart.  Not right now.”  Peering at Zach, he pokes him in the arm.  “You seem good, though.  In a good place.  Calmer.  More zen.”

Chris chuckles.  “But it wasn’t all for nothing, right?  You’ve worked on those things you needed to?”

Zach leans his head toward Chris and pouts his bottom lip for a second.  It’s a familiar gesture and the nostalgia makes Chris’ stomach flutter. 

“Yeah, I’ve... been seeing a therapist.  I started to not too long after you were in New York,” he says.

Chris gives him a grin and pats his knee affectionately.  “That’s good.  That’s really good.  I’m proud of you.  It’s helped, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.  I’ve let go of a lot of stuff, learned to trust myself.  I’m not perfect or anything --”

“No one is, Zach.”

He holds Chris’ gaze for a long moment.  “No one is,” he repeats.  “But, I’m better, _a lot_ better, than I used to be,” he says.  “Still horrible at relationships, though,” he mutters.

Chris turns to him.  “Still think you’ll be abandoned in the end?” he asks softly.

With a shake of his head, Zach’s hands fidget in his lap.  “No, I... different problem.”  He sighs heavily and looks at Chris, his eyes full of hope.

Chris studies him closely.  “Looking for something you don’t think you’ll ever find again.”

Zach gives him a weak shrug.

“Five years is a long time.  We’re different people now, Zach.”

“I know,” Zach whispers.

It starts to get dark so they walk back toward Chris’ house.  They’re walking slowly, dragging their feet and stretching out the time they have together. 

He makes Zach wait in his living room while he runs to his bedroom.  Chris returns after a couple minutes and hands Zach an envelope.  A dark shadow moves across Zach’s face when he realizes what it is.

“Chris,” he says, almost as if he’s pleading. 

“Why did you move here, Zach?”

His eyes flicker between the old envelope and Chris’ soft expression.  “I think you know why.”

“Then just read it,” Chris tells him quietly.

He sees Zach to the door and watches as his figure, head bent in deep thought, grows smaller with each step away from his house.

Just as he’s about to climb into bed, he hears a knock.  Chris pads out to the door and opens it without checking to see who it is.

“Do you remember what you wrote?” Zach demands, holding up Chris’ last letter in his left hand.

“Every word of it.”

Zach steps inside and Chris closes the door.  He turns and looks at the half smile on Zach’s face and wet gleam in his eyes.

“I’m here.  It took five years, but I’m here.  And I’m ready,” Zach whispers.

“About time,” Chris says with a lopsided smile.

Zach steps forward, cups Chris’ face, and guides their lips together.  Instinctually, Chris wraps his arms around Zach and feels himself being pulled closer.  His heart aches at how much he’s missed this, but knows it was worth the wait.  It’ll be better this time around, without the hurry and clutter of young emotions. 

Zach smiles as he pulls back slightly, then hugs Chris and tucks his head into the crook of his neck.  Chris closes his eyes and leans his head against Zach’s.  The only thing he hears before being steered toward his bedroom is the familiar thrum of Zach’s pulse beneath his skin and the gentle tap of his letter falling weightlessly onto the hardwood floor. 

 

 _Asshole._

 _This thing we have won’t die, Zach.  It’s woven into every part of me, for years now, and I know it’s true for you, too.  Somewhere, in your mind or in your heart, some place that’s not ruled by your doubt that you’re not good enough for me, you know that we’re only good for each other._

 _Whenever you’re ready, come find me.  It’ll still be best thing either of us will ever know._

 _I won’t turn you away._

 _Yours,_

 _Chris_

 

***


End file.
